


Confessions of Little Sisters

by kyrieanne



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:27:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrieanne/pseuds/kyrieanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie and Darcy become friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions of Little Sisters

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to another story I wrote "Everybody Needs a Confessor," also posted on AO3. Set before and after Episode 82.

On Monday morning the email is waiting in Lizzie’s inbox: 

 

**To:** [ **elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com** ](mailto:elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com)

**From:** [ **williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com** ](mailto:williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com)

**Subject: Lunch and Bow Ties?**

 

Dear Lizzie, 

 

Since we have decided to be friends, may I suggest we have lunch this week? 

 

Sincerely, 

 

**William Darcy**

**Pemberley Digital, CEO**

 

 

**To:** [ **williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com** ](mailto:williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com)

**From:** [ **elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com** ](mailto:elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com)

**Subject: Re: Lunch and Bow Ties?**  

 

Darcy  - You don’t have to sign your full name and title. I get who you are. Also, you _may_ ask, but I will save you the trouble of another email and say yes, lunch would be good. Tomorrow works. Since you were cheeky with the subject line I demand one of us wear a bow tie.  - Lizzie 

 

 

 

**To:** [ **elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com** ](mailto:elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com)

**From:** [ **williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com** ](mailto:williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com)

**Subject: Re: Lunch and Bow Ties?**

 

Lizzie, 

 

The signature is automatic. 

 

Tomorrow for lunch is excellent. If you have a place you would like to go, please let me know and I will have Reynolds make a reservation. 

 

I will dress accordingly. 

 

Sincerely, 

 

**William Darcy**

**Pemberley Digital, CEO**

 

 

 

**To:** [ **williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com** ](mailto:williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com)

**From:** [ **elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com** ](mailto:elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com)

**Subject: Re: Lunch and Bow Ties?**

 

I’m slightly addicted to your dining facilities (and they’re free!). Why don’t we grab something and eat in my office? Lizzie PS - Who says you always get to play you?! I’m getting the Darcy turtle-chin-tuck down! 

 

 

**To:** [ **elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com** ](mailto:elizabeth.bennet@gmail.com)

**From:** [ **williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com** ](mailto:williamdarcy@pemberleydigital.com)

**Subject: Re: Lunch and Bow Ties?**

 

Lizzie, 

 

Since lunch was my invitation it would have been my treat as well, but if you prefer the food from the dining facilities I can hardly blame you since they are excellent. I already spoke with the head chef and he says your favorite meal is the vegetable lasagna. Would you like that or something else? I will bring the food with me to your office at noon, if that would be alright with you. 

 

We can take turns with the bow tie. 

 

Sincerely, 

 

**William Darcy**

**Pemberley Digital, CEO**

 

 

 

*******

 

 **Lizzie:** Hey, what’s your brother’s cell number? 

 **Gigi:** Why? ;)

 **Lizzie:** Don’t emoticon this. I just need to respond to an email. 

 **Gigi:** Is this about your lunch date today? 

 **Lizzie:** Don’t think I won’t explain to him what the eagle and the tiger are really about. 

 **Gigi:** 415.678.9928

 **Gigi:** Low blow, Bennet. Low blow. 

 **Lizzie:** ;)

 

 

***

 

**Lizzie Bennet:**

Treat=Date

This is Lizzie, btw. 

Do you have a thing against shorthand in text? 

 

**Darcy!Darcy:**

For myself, yes. It contributes to the decline of social expression. But I do not judge other people if they use it.

Also, to treat someone to lunch is a common courtesy.  You may be a little sensitive.

 

**Lizzie Bennet:**

Was that SARCASM?!? 

 

**Darcy!Darcy:**

It appears to be.

You never responded in the affirmative. Does lunch at noon work?

 

**Lizzie Bennet:**

Yeah. 

 

**Darcy!Darcy:**

And the vegetable lasagna?

 

**Lizzie Bennet:**

Yeah. 

You really like formality don’t you? 

 

**Darcy!Darcy:**

I like things well ordered.

 

**Lizzie Bennet:**

Oh! Just remembered, can you grab me one of those chocolate chip cookies too? 

 

*** 

 

“You didn’t really have to wear a bow tie,” Lizzie says when he appears in her doorway. 

 

He seems taken aback by this and Lizzie is instantly sorry she said it. If they are going to be friends they are going to have to get over their hesitancy toward another. He will have to learn to recognize her sarcasm and her, his sincerity. 

 

He clears his throat, “Um, I actually just put this on this morning. I do wear them un-ironically.” 

 

“Careful and they might revoke your hipster card,” she makes sure to smile when she says it and this seems to put him at ease. He hands her the plastic takeout container and sits down in the single chair in her office besides her own. 

 

She balances the container on her knees and inhales the gorgeous scent of lasagna. There is so many things she will miss about Pemberley when she leaves and she isn’t ashamed to say the dining facilities would rank in the top ten.

 

“What did you get?” she eyes Darcy’s container. He tips it toward her. Chinese. He eats it with the little wooden chopsticks in a coordinated way Lizzie never could; she stuck with a fork. 

 

They eat in companionable silence for a few minutes and Lizzie takes advantage to sneak a glance at him. He looks almost relaxed here in her office. One foot rests on his opposite knee and while he isn’t slouching ( _Does Darcy know how to slouch?_ ) he isn’t sitting ramrod straight either. She sips the soda he brought her and mentally ticks through the checklist of conversation topics she made this morning. They are sitting on notecards and tucked into her copy of Dr. Gardner’s latest book. The fact that she was so nervous about this lunch that she made conversation notecards is enough to make Lizzie question this whole experiment. 

 

Even though this friendship thing was her idea, Lizzie still isn’t sure about it. The freedom she feels when she is costume!Lizzie seems like a distant memory. Right now William Darcy is sitting in her office and they are having a companionable lunch. It is not something that would naturally have ever occurred. It felt as manufactured as her videos. 

 

She thinks of what Dr. Gardner always said about consciousness - that once you establish it there is no way to back track. Now that Lizzie was aware of Darcy there was no way they could ever know what it would be like to just naturally be friends. costume!Lizzie and costume!Darcy might be as real as they could ever get. 

 

With that thought she rips the metaphorical band-aid off her own nerves, “At the Gibson wedding why did you say I was _decent enough_?”

 

He looks taken aback again. She glances at her office door. She doesn’t want to close it lest people get the wrong idea about her and the CEO, but privacy seems important now. She puts the lasagna aside and closes the door while leaving a small crack. As she sinks back into her chair she can feel Darcy’s gaze. It is direct and nervous at the same time. 

 

“I don’t entirely know,” he sets his own food aside, “I wanted Bing to stop trying to get me to socialize, but also you annoyed me.” 

 

“ _I_ annoyed you?” 

 

“It was obvious you didn’t want to dance with me.” 

 

She sits up, “You didn’t want to dance with _me_.” 

 

His mouth thins, “I am not by nature good in large group gatherings and even less when I know almost no one.” 

 

“That didn’t mean you had to be rude about it.” 

 

Darcy looks at his lap and Lizzie is afraid she’s gone too far, critiqued him too early in this strange foray into friendship. But then he looks up. He holds the line of his mouth very straight. 

 

“You are right about that,” he says, “I forget sometimes how my opinions and especially my displeasure can affect other people.” 

 

“It can cause them to think it was their fault,” she says quietly. 

 

Darcy leans forward, “What I said about you being decent enough was not what I thought…,” Lizzie turns the plastic fork over in her hands. His voice gentles, “I was annoyed that you so obviously did not want to dance with me. I never imagined you would hear me say it. I am sorry. Please know it was never a reflection of my actual opinion about you.” 

 

Lizzie has the fuzz brained thought that Darcy might be calling her beautiful, or at least better than _decent enough_. She is afraid he will say more and bluntly declare his opinion of her  - good or bad - and she doesn’t want him too. She isn’t ready. 

 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he clears his throat and takes a drink. 

 

Whatever reason she has for wanting to be his friend - it was never to get an apology for every offense. She is sorry she brought it up. The truth is she hadn’t wanted to dance with anyone that night. She had been against the wall too. She had been just as stiff as he had. 

 

“I’m not saying I excuse what you said,” Lizzie says, “but I wasn’t exactly charming either.” 

 

He smiles, “Lizzie, I think you know that isn’t true. If you hadn’t been charming why else would I have been annoyed with you?” 

 

***  

 

They have lunch on Thursday. She posts the video of Gigi’s story and shuts off   her phone. She powers down her computer and ignores the Internet. She wants a few hours away from the comments and general flailing. She wants to step out of her own story and just be. Maybe she wants to just have lunch with Darcy without the invasion (albeit invasion she invited) from the outside world. 

 

Darcy knew about the video. He emailed Lizzie a few hours after Gigi made her confession to the camera. _The thing about little sisters,_ he wrote, _is you eventually realize they are these grown-up people and they have more than earned the right to decide what is best for them._ He tells her he isn’t mad and asks if he might stop by with lunch again. She reads his email and thinks automatically of Lydia. She almost checks her sister’s Youtube channel, but decides she just doesn’t want to pop the bubble of Pemberley. Lydia and their fight will be there waiting for her when she gets home. 

 

***

 

“Favorite book.” 

 

“That’s too broad a category.” 

 

“Favorite novel, then.” 

 

“Children’s novel or literature?” 

 

“Lizzie, name a novel.” 

 

“I take issue with the adjective favorite. It creates a false dichotomy. What makes something the _favorite_? Is it how it moved us or because it was clever? Because some of the best books I’ve read are beautifully written, but they are not my favorite.” 

 

“You’re cheating.” 

 

“What’s your favorite book?” 

 

“Now, you’re avoiding.”

 

“And so are you!” 

 

“Fine. My favorite piece of non-fiction is called _The Supper of the Lamb_. It is a little book about cooking. My favorite piece of philosophy is anything by Augustine. I am partial to Robert Burns’ poetry for its simplicity, but T.S. Eliot was the marvel of his generation. _A Hundred Years of Solitude_ might be the most important piece of literature written in the 20th century and though technically published in 1996, _Infinite Jest_ might turn out to be the most important novel of the 21st century. Though it might be too early to tell.” 

 

“It might.” 

 

“Your turn.” 

 

“You didn’t say your favorite children’s novel.” 

 

“Lizzie…” 

 

“Come on! I’ll tell you if you do.” 

 

“Fine… _Anne of Green Gables_.” 

 

“Seriously?” 

 

“I realize it is an uncommon choice for a grown man, but my mother used to read it to me. It was her favorite piece of literature. She and Gigi were reading the series together when she died so I, um, finished it with her. That summer we read through everything L.M. Montgomery wrote. It was…meaningful.” 

 

“You know,” … _takes Newsie cap off her head and sets it on his head sideways…_ “with the cap you kind of look like Gilbert Blythe.” 

 

“You promised to answer the question. Favorite book.” 

 

“All of them.” 

 

*** 

 

Friday night Lizzie goes out with Gigi, Fitz, his boyfriend Henry, and - of course - Darcy. They squeeze into Darcy’s convertible and ride with the top down even though it is January. Lizzie is packed in between Henry and Gigi who are both singing Lady Gaga at the top of their lungs. 

 

They are stopped at a red light when a car, one outfitted with too tall wheels, pulls up alongside. Lizzie sees the dubious glances from the young men. They see Darcy’s red sports car with its reverberating bass and the low growl of the engine. Fitz notices them at the same time Lizzie does. 

 

“It looks like you have friends, Darce,” Fitz shouts over the music. Henry reaches forward to the passenger seat and shakes Fitz’s shoulders for him to the beat of the music.

 

“Come on!” he shouts, “dance with us.” 

 

Lizzie slows her own backseat dancing to watch the young men rev their engine. Darcy is staring straight ahead ( _it is enough of a stretch to convince him to play Gaga in his car let alone wave his arms and sing it_ ), but she knows he notices. Fitz elbows him and Lizzie catches the two men smile to each other. 

 

When the light turns green their car is so fast out of the lane that it leaves the other car two lengths behind. Darcy’s hand is fast on the stick shift. The muscles in his forearm tense and Lizzie unconsciously touches her throat. A quick glance over his shoulder and he changes the lanes and neatly leaves the other car stuck behind him until they turn. Fitz grins back at Lizzie and Gigi, who is still singing with a conspiratorial little grin on her face.   

 

*** 

 

A week into her friendship with Darcy, Lizzie’s mother calls. 

 

“Have you talked to Lydia?” 

 

“No,” Lizzie tucks the phone under her chin and stands on her tip toes to reach the tallest hanging fern. Watering the plants is the one real responsibility she has in this house sitting gig. 

 

“Well she has a boyfriend now. She’s been staying over at his house all week.” 

 

“Isn’t that going to get in the way of her studies?” 

 

“Lizzie, not everyone sleeps and breathes school like you do.” 

 

Lizzie lets the watering can drop to her side. She remembers the way her mother put her foot down when Lydia cut classes to visit Jane. But for a boy the rules are different? 

 

“Mom, I’ve got to go,” she mumbles and hangs up. 

 

*** 

 

The conversation with her mother and the whole situation bothers Lizzie. Since Bing Lee found out about her videos she has tried to complain less about her family on them. She has stopped using the videos as some sort of pulpit for her own opinions or at least she has tried too. No one has noticed ( _except for Charlotte_ ) because they are ravid for Darcy developments. But this feels more significant. 

 

Suddenly she is questioning her own opinions and their validity. She is unsure how to feel about her family and her sisters and her relationship with them. She is unsure how to feel about herself. Is she someone who broadcasts other people’s lives on the Internet for her own gain? Or was she someone who tries to do the right thing and made a few mistakes along the way? 

 

“Lizzie,” Darcy appears in her doorway late Monday afternoon, “you texted?” 

 

She wrings her hands, “Yeah, are you busy tonight? I was thinking we could grab dinner. I could use someone to talk too.” 

 

He tilts his head as if caught off guard by the question. There is a huge difference between casual lunches where they debate books and media theory and the merits of condiments and what she just suggested. 

 

“It’s fine. I’m sure you are busy. You’re a CEO of course you are busy,” she rushes. She stands up as if she were going to escort him out of the office when he is barely through her doorway. 

 

“Lizzie,” he says, “I would be happy to get dinner with you.” 

 

“Oh, okay.” 

 

“One requirement though.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“You’ve gotten to choose where we eat lunch. It is my turn to pick the restaurant and since it is my choice I get to pay.” 

 

She can feel the objection on the tip of her tongue. This was not a date, but dinner between friends. But he looks at her with an arched eyebrow, an eyebrow that says - _I get that, but let me anyway_ \- and she stuffs it away. She smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. 

 

“That’s fair,” she says.  

 

*** 

 

They meet in the lobby of Pemberley Digital after work hours. Darcy is waiting for her, looking at the ground, as his employees leave for the night. A few stare at him and she can appreciate their mixed awe and terror. He is a great boss, but unless you were in his small circle of top people you would never really know him. 

 

Lizzie has told herself a thousand times in the hour since he came to her office that they are just friends. She reminds herself of this again when she steps off the elevator and sees him pacing, unaware that she is watching. 

 

He is still in his suit, but he slipped into those obnoxious hipster glasses she has seen him wear outside the office. They don’t go with his overcoat and tie, but she likes the juxtaposition. On a whim she reaches up and messes up his carefully gelled hair. 

 

“There,” she says, “now your are costume!Darcy. Newsie robot.” 

 

He smiles and guides her to the waiting car with a gentle hand at her back. 

 

She doesn’t remember when it became easy to fill the space in their conversations. They talk about the second quarter strategy meeting she missed. He fills her in on upcoming projects and Lizzie feels a deep pang of regret that she will be gone by the time many of them get started. Somewhere from there they switch to politics, argue about reform of social programs and Wall Street, and by the time they sit down at the table Lizzie is telling him about how Lydia used to sneak onto Lizzie’s AIM account. 

 

“She told Adam Horowitz that I liked him. I was so mortified my mother actually let me stay home sick from school for two days,” Lizzie laughs and sighs, “she taught me how to play poker and arrange flowers. She said those were two of the most important skills a woman could have.” 

 

Darcy tucks his napkin into his lap and smiles, “Your mother sounds like a woman of many qualities.” 

 

A few months ago Lizzie would have been offended by that, but she knows now that is Darcy’s way of saying something nice. She nods, “I miss her.” 

 

The look he gives her is kind and she meets his gaze for a long second before it becomes too much and she has to look away. 

 

Of course the restaurant Darcy chose is nice. There are low candles on the tables and white tablecloths. He orders steak and a bottle of red wine for them to share. The host comes by with complimentary appetizers from the kitchen and Lizzie realizes they know Darcy by name. 

 

He tells her - without prompting - about his early days as CEO of Pemberley when he was trying to be at every meeting and figure out what Twitter was actually for. 

 

“I insisted on reading every one of my own emails and making all of my own appointments. Finally Gigi and Fitz intervened and they asked Reynolds to come on as my personal assistant. She worked for my dad, but retired after the car crash.” 

 

“But she came back for you?” 

 

He looks embarrassed, “She’s always been very loyal and I was drowning. I didn’t know how to be the boss. I didn’t know how to delegate. She told me the only way she would come back was if I learned to trust her and other people enough to let them help me.” 

 

Lizzie tries to imagine what it would be like to be thrust into so much responsibility at such a young age. Not only was he entrusted with the company his parents had built side-by-side, but he was the executor of Gigi’s trust. More importantly he was her only family. Her well being would always be his primary responsibility. Gigi had said there was nothing Lizzie said about Darcy that rivaled the things Gigi said to his face. It had been his job to love her through the tough parts and he had. It strikes her that this is more than she has done with Lydia. 

 

“Lizzie, is something wrong?” Darcy sits forward. 

 

Lizzie covers her mouth with her hand and takes a deep breath, “Lydia and I got in this huge fight before I came to Pemberley.” 

 

“I saw the video.” 

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

 

“I know. That was obvious.” 

 

“But I’ve always been harsh toward Lydia,” Lizzie leans on her elbows, “we’ve always been so different.” 

 

“Ah, I know what that is like,” he licks his lips, “Gigi was always exuberant to my more reserved nature.” 

 

“How did you get past it?” 

 

He takes a sip of wine and says nothing for a minute. She likes how careful he is with words. She likes his deliberate nature and appreciates it. It is one reason why she covets his opinions. It is one reason why she wanted to be his friend, to confess things like this to someone like him. Even if she disagrees with what he says she respects how he arrived there. 

 

“Do you remember when you came to my office after Bing asked you about the videos?” 

 

Lizzie blushes at the memory of her accusation, “Yeah.” 

 

“And you said Bing was kind. That Jane was kind. And I said that kind is not the only morality.” 

 

“Yeah, I didn’t really get what you meant by that.” 

 

He leans forward and Lizzie thinks the table really is in the way. Whatever this strange conversation is that they are having it feels far more intimate than anything they’ve had before. 

 

“With my sister I’ve had to realize that there are different ways of being. Different morals we all have. Sometimes someone will be the opposite of what you will spend your whole life trying to uphold…” 

 

Lizzie can’t help it. She hears George Wickham’s name between Darcy’s words. 

 

“…But more often, especially with the people we love, they simply have a different way of being. My little sister works by a different code than I do. She makes decisions differently. She takes different risks and relates to the world in ways I cannot fathom doing. But I love her and I find that when I value her choices as her choices. When I learn that my way isn’t the only morality then our relationship is stronger.” 

 

Lizzie’s fingers trace an indiscernible pattern on the table. Darcy’s gaze drops to her hand and she watches him. She licks her lips and thinks for half a second he might actually reach out and take it. But he doesn’t. He is Darcy. If she said just friends then he will respect that. 

 

“Do you always have so many great answers?” Lizzie tries to make her voice light. To infuse the conversation with a little bit of that banter they normally have. 

 

Darcy sits back in his chair, takes another sip of wine, and shrugs, “There was this girl once who pointed out some things about me. Since then I’ve learned a few important lessons.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to hear what you think! Depending on how things go I may write one more part...


End file.
